There's a Gorilla in my Dining Room

 Hi Dad,

I miss you. If you were here, we’d probably get together for a Father’s Day BBQ and you’d regale us with stories about the properties you rent. I guess this year it falls to me to share the updates.

Remember, a few weeks ago when we had that real hot spell? “Johnny” needed a new air conditioner. I guess it’s Murphy’s Law that they always break right before summer.  When I drove to Silver Spring to meet the technician, I noticed Johnny’s lawn was looking overgrown and weedy. “Uh oh,” I thought. “The HOA isn’t going to be happy about this.” I swear, one of the tenants leaves a lid off a trash can one day and the next day I get a letter from the HOA. Sheesh. So, while I was waiting for the technician, I reached down and started pulling up weeds from front yard. No tools, no gloves—just me against the dandelions. By the time the HVAC guy showed up, the garden bed was looking pretty good. When I led him around to the back entrance, I found a pair of scissors sitting the patio table. “What else do I have to do?” I thought. I left the HVAC guy tinkering with the air conditioner and went back up front with the scissors. I focused on the tallest blades of grass, grabbing as many as I could into a clump and cutting them off. I tried to be as inconspicuous as a middle-aged lady cutting the grass with scissors could be. Can you imagine if someone was looking out the window? An hour later, I had an estimate for a new air conditioner and a satisfying amount of dirt caked beneath my fingernails. Property management 101: always bring your checkbook and your garden gloves.

I was thinking about you when I was weeding--how you would turn this into a funny story. I miss your positive attitude, Dad. When you owned these townhomes, there was always something, yet I never heard you complain. You embraced these somethings with patience, humility, and humor. The tasks and challenges of these properties were never a burden for you—in contrast, you saw them as a series of opportunities to learn and to share God’s love.

Like the giant gorilla in the dining room. No, really. “Mary” moved out and left it. Well, technically she moved out in March, but she didn’t tell me until the end of April. She stopped paying rent and kept delaying her moving date because she had a few items left in the house and wanted to have a yard sale. I finally convinced her meet me at the house in May to return the keys. When I stepped inside, I realized there were more than a few items left in the house. There were piles. Everywhere I looked, there were piles. Oh, Dad. It was so overwhelming. And I knew Mary was overwhelmed by it all. “The longer I waited to call you, the worse I felt about it and therefore the more anxiety I had,” she said. What was I supposed to do? Inform Mary that she owed me two months’ rent and the cost of a dumpster? That didn’t feel right. So, I said what I think you might have said:

“You’ve taken the items you need to start fresh, and it seems you are overwhelmed with everything that’s left here. Don’t worry about what you are leaving behind. I’ll take care of it.”

I almost kept the giant gorilla. He seemed pretty friendly, and I thought maybe I could train him to cut Johnny’s grass. But in the end, I cleared him out along with the rest of Mary’s piles.

And that was it. Her eyes welling with tears, Mary gave me a hug and handed over the keys. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate the kindness you have shown me just as your dad always did.”

Dad, this is the first Father’s Day you are not with us, yet you continue to be a positive influence in my life. Learning to be a property manager over the past year has just shown me how little I know about property management, but I’m trying to tackle all the tasks with your patience, humility, and humor.

Happy Father’s Day. I love you.